Catch

When I look toward his office, he’s standing in the doorway staring at me. With a crook of his finger, he beckons me closer, and I go.

I let my heart take the lead.Chapter 39KeatsIt’s okay to like your boss.

Damn right it is.

I watched Maren silently say those words before she walked into my office.

She likes me. She fucking likes me.

Is it finally my turn to be the luckiest man on this planet?

“You look happy,” Maren comments as she stands in front of me.

I close the door with a click.

Her eyes widen beneath long lashes. “Is something wrong?”

Everything is right. I keep that to myself and try and remember what I do for a living as I stare into her blue eyes.

“What is it?” She grimaces. “We can handle this together, Keats.”

She’s right. We can handle anything together.

I finally shake myself out of my infatuation fog and clear my throat. “Everything is fine.”

She nods as she twists the end of the leather belt around her waist in her fingers. I glance down at the light green dress she’s wearing. I would tell her she’s beautiful, but I won’t be able to stop there. How do you fully express to the most stunning woman in the world that she lights up every room she walks into?

“Are we going to talk about what happened the other night?” She lets out a breathy sigh. “We haven’t had a chance to talk about that.”

I take a step closer to her. “The almost kiss?”

Her eyes drop to my lips. “Yes.”

“Arietta’s timing is shit.”

She bits her bottom lip to ward off a laugh. “You swore.”

That draws me even closer to her. “I know, and here comes another. Do you agree that your roommate’s timing is shit?”

She nods. Her gaze is still trained on my mouth, so I smile.

“Have you kissed anyone you work with before?” she asks.

“Everett,” I answer. “Just once.”

Her shoulders surge forward as she huffs out a laugh. “Are you serious?”

“I went to plant one on his cheek the day he became a grandfather.” I tap my cheek with my index finger. “Everett moved, and the kiss landed on his lips.”

Her head shakes. “Did this happen in front of everyone, or was it a private kiss?”

I lean in closer. “That one was public. This one will be private.”

“This one?” Her eyes search mine.

“This one,” I repeat before I cup the back of her neck, pull her to me, and press my lips to hers.***The kiss is soft. It lingers. I tug her into me, and she responds with the slightest sigh and a hint of a moan.

I dive deeper, tangling my hand in her hair as I skim my tongue over her bottom lip.

This has to be what a kiss is supposed to feel like because fuck me, I’m feeling things I’ve never felt before.

With a groan, I trail my fingers over her back.

“Keats.”

What the fuck? My name has never sounded like that before.

I rest my forehead against hers to catch my breath, or to calm my heart down because that thing is slamming against the wall of my chest trying to escape.

“Maren,” I say her name. “What the hell?”

She lets out the smallest laugh. “We kissed.”

We did more than kiss. We connected on a level I never knew existed. If kissing her feels like this, what is fucking her like?

My dick hardens more when I think about touching her, bringing her to orgasm, hearing her come as she rides me.

“Kiss me again,” I almost beg.

She takes a step back. “Is this wrong?”

“No,” I blurt out without thinking. “How can this be wrong when it feels…”

“So good?” she interrupts me. “Did it feel good to you too?”

I glance down. “What do you think?”

Her hand pops up to cover her mouth when she gets an eyeful of the bulge in the front of my pants.

“I’ve never had a kiss quite like that,” I confess.

“Me either.” Her gaze drops to the floor. “I work for you.”

I inch her chin up with a touch of my finger. “So?”

“That makes it complicated.”

Shaking my head, I run my fingertip over her bare arm. “It doesn’t have to be.”

A knock at my door sends her back a step. “This is what I’m talking about. People will know what we’re doing.”

I don’t give a fuck about that.

I stalk toward the door. “You’d think the closed door would be a hint to scram.”

When I swing it open, I almost stumble back. “Stevie?”

My niece looks at me before her gaze darts to Maren. “Is that Maren? You kissed her, didn’t you?”

How the hell did she figure that out in two seconds flat?

“You have lipstick on your mouth, Keats.” Stevie marches into my office, holding tight to the stuffed dog I gave her yesterday. She stops when she’s right in front of Maren. “I’m Stevie Morgan. I’m very happy to meet you.”